What I Can Get...
by musouka
Summary: Sometimes you only have a few years to play make-believe. Takes place in my Usotsuki universe. A birthday present for Kym-san.


Oh, Kyyyym-saaaan

> Oh, Kyyyym-saaaan! I believe it's YOUR b-day coming up soon, am I correct? Well, in any case, and I'm completely off-base, think of this as an early-going away present. ^_^ Unfortunately, this isn't too sappy, but it _is_ angsty. It also takes place in my "Usotsuki" universe. I was thinking about what I could write for you, and then I thought about how much there was to Usotsuki that I wouldn't be able to fit in the regular series…and this came about. ^_^;; Jyouto, or Yamajyou? I'm not sure, so I'll let you decide. I hope you like it.

> **What I Can Get…**
> 
> He's late. 
> 
> How fucking ironic. Here I am, sitting here alone in the small space we rent together—if we were married, one could use all sorts of _wonderful_ adjectives to describe it…cozy, homey, snug…use your imagination. But we're not married, we're "just roommates". No, that's not the ironic part, but I'm sure I'll get to that sooner or later. 
> 
> And, right now, the apartment feels too cramped. Like I couldn't even move my feet without bumping into anything. Oh, that's right. I _can't_. Whether it's his medical textbooks, or my spreadsheets, they're strewn about in a mess that only we can decipher. 
> 
> I can remember the last time we invited Koushirou over. The poor guy practically had a panic attack, not that I can blame him, our apartment is NOT the kind place you want to discover you have a mild form of claustrophobia…I think that was around the time Jyou was sculpting a life-size replica of the human heart out of clay, just for kicks. Everyone thinks I'm the only artistic one in the Chosen, but Jyou's just more private about it. 
> 
> If I squint, I can just make out the finished model's outline on the desk we share—sometimes testily when it comes to exam time. It's beautiful. I never thought I would say that about a lump of clay fashioned into a model of a blood-pumping organ, but it's true. And I know, that if it were possible to cut it down the middle, you would see the inner workings to perfection. 
> 
> When I asked him why he didn't make it so that you could see the inside, he just laughed and said, "That's not how a real heart would work, so why should mine be any different?" And if I wasn't so damn annoyed right now, I think I'd be touched all over again at the obvious symbolism in him giving it to me for my birthday. 
> 
> Sometimes I wish I _could_ see the inside…just to know it's there, if that makes any sense. 
> 
> If I could just see it, then maybe I could understand how it works better… 
> 
> *** 
> 
> He's _still_ late. And getting later by the minute. 
> 
> So, what is so ironic about the situation? Besides the fact that nothing in this dump works right so I'm sitting here in the dark, cursing the cheap lamp I insisted upon buying with what little strength I have left, when I'm not getting more and more unfairly irked at my roommate? 
> 
> Simple. 
> 
> I'm usually the one out on Saturday nights. 
> 
> You know, that sounds selfish. And it is selfish. But can I help it if that's the kind of person I am? Jyou keeps on telling me I have enough good points to make up for it. 
> 
> Maybe someday I'll actually believe him. 
> 
> I wonder what Jyou is doing right now. He said he was going out with friends, and I can't help but be curious if that means a group of friends with _her_ in it. It takes me a second to recall her name…Hanako. It's a pretty name, and she's a pretty girl. 
> 
> A pretty girl that seems to like Jyou. 
> 
> It's not like I'm jealous or anything—who the hell am I trying to kid? Of course I'm jealous. I'd have to be a damn rock not to be otherwise. I know that she's just a friend of Jyou's, but sometimes, when she's teasing him, she'll grab onto his arm and stuff like that… 
> 
> It's all in fun, anyone could tell, but… 
> 
> Goddamn, I'm jealous. She _can_ do that. Does she have any idea what freedom she has? 
> 
> She has the second-most beautiful smile I think I've ever seen in my life; even I can admit that. It's slow to start, but then, when you're watching her out of the corner of your eye—I don't even know if I've ever looked her straight in the face—it becomes as radiant as a sunrise on a clear morning. It's ensnaring. 
> 
> It's deceiving. 
> 
> I don't think she's devious, but rather that her smile is hiding something, believe me, I can recognize that sort of thing. Perhaps that's why it's so gorgeous. I think smiles tinged with sadness are the most beautiful kind. 
> 
> Jyou looks almost paradoxically melancholy when he smiles. 
> 
> And nobody except me ever bothers to notice. 
> 
> On bad days, I'm glad that it's that way. I don't know what I'd do if he attracted so much attention, if girls fawned all over him. He'll get a few notes and chocolates on Valentines Day out of the blue, from a few girls too shy to sign their names, and sometimes giri-chocolate from a girl he's helped tutor or something. It funny because he's never quite sure how to react to them, whereas I get them, eat the chocolate—if Jyou's being nice, sometimes I'll even share...aw, hell, I usually split it down the middle with him anyway; you'd be surprised at how much he loves chocolate—and don't give them another thought. 
> 
> On good days, on the other hand, it pisses me off that people don't notice him. Sometimes they'll act as if he's not even there, like when girls come up to "talk about the notes in class" which in female-speak translates out to "flirt like hell" when I'm in the middle of a conversation with him. Without fail, he always pulls out his ever-present book out and excuses himself to a "polite distance away", wearing that spun-glass smile I know so well. 
> 
> And, even as I play "the game" with her—you know, talk, talk, let your eyes roam down ever-so-slightly, talk, give a bashful smile as if you're embarrassed for "looking", talk…it's all in the rhythm—I want to slap her. Knock her so hard in the face that her teeth would rattle. Teach her a lesson for treating him like he's not even worth the time to say hello to. 
> 
> *** 
> 
> I'm going to call him. He probably has his cell phone off, but it won't hurt to try. 
> 
> I'll yell for him to get his ass home. 
> 
> Okay, so I won't, but I'll _feel_ like yelling at him. 
> 
> I wonder if he ever feels like this, waiting for me to get home from my late nights. Does he ever get worried about me, or upset when I tell him I'll be home at one time and end up staying out late? Does he get jealous because I'm out on a date with some strange girl, and I haven't even managed to say, "I love you" to him yet? 
> 
> It's hard to envision Jyou jealous. Jyou's just not the type. Instead of getting mad, he just looks kind of…sad. 
> 
> That look in his eyes as he watches me talk to the strange girl about the "notes from class", peeking over the cover of his book slyly. The way, when he thinks I can't see him because I'm out of the room, he'll pick up one of the Valentines one of them has given to me, read it, and sigh; a light puff of breath so similar to the ones that caress my neck when we're making love… 
> 
> He's never given me a Valentine. I've considered getting him one, but I've never gone through with it. 
> 
> The way he'll brush a lock of my hair out of my eyes when he thinks I'm asleep, that same smile radiating at me through the darkness. Even if I can't see it, I still know it's there. 
> 
> I just don't know what else is there. 
> 
> What are we? 
> 
> Sex-friends? 
> 
> Roommates? 
> 
> Lovers? 
> 
> What would you do if I told you that I love you? Would you smile and say you love me too? Would it scare you? Would you reject me? 
> 
> Dammit, Jyou, why won't you just let me know? 
> 
> Why can't I read you like I can everyone else? 
> 
> I reach for the phone, dialing a number in the dark I know better than any other phone number I've ever memorized. I hear a muted ring as the call goes through, but what is surprising is when I hear a dim echo from down the hall, coming closer with every footstep. There's the sound of someone fumbling something, the ringing becoming sharper and crisper. I can hear something fall and hit the edge of the door, and a familiar voice mumble something as he stoops to pick it up. He sounds irritated. 
> 
> "Dammit, Yamato, this better not be you." 
> 
> "You're late." I know I sound like a spoiled five-year old, but it's all I can think of to say. Maybe if I appeal to him like this, "You have an exam tomorrow." 
> 
> "I _know_. That's what I was doing. Studying with a group of friends." 
> 
> That hurts, and I don't know why. I sure as hell don't know the curriculum, and it's gotten to the point where I can't just read him questions out of a book. Still, I can remember when I would fix the two of us a pot of soup, and we'd help one another study. It started back when he was helping me for the high school exams. 
> 
> "Was Hanako there?" The words come out of my mouth before I'm even aware of them. And there's silence. 
> 
> "I'll talk to you once I get inside." 
> 
> And then he hangs up. 
> 
> *** 
> 
> "Ouch!" There's a thump from inside the entryway. "Shit! Where the hell did those come from?!" 
> 
> "You were the one who put them there." I call from inside. 
> 
> "Why aren't the lights on?" He asks, walking towards the lamp and trying to turn it on with no success. I can see him turn around and begin digging through the closet. "Here we go." He screws in a new lightbulb, and wonder of wonders, light floods the room. 
> 
> "I didn't know we had any…" I say at his questioning glance in my direction, trying to hide my laziness and indifference. It's hard to stew when you're not in the dark. He nods while shrugging out of his coat. That was my birthday gift to him; sometimes I think he'd wear it year-round if I didn't stop him. It looks strange to wear a winter coat in the middle of summer. 
> 
> But he was so happy with it when he opened it… 
> 
> "I meant to tell you that I bought some a few days ago." 
> 
> What were we talking about? I can't even remember. 
> 
> "Wow, it is late!" He exclaims after taking the time to glance at his watch. Probably the first time all evening, I think sourly. "Why aren't you in bed?" 
> 
> "Well, why aren't _you_ in bed?" I ask pointedly. "You're late." 
> 
> Something slams on the table, causing a teacup left there from this afternoon to quake as if in fear. I look at the palms of his hands flat against the surface. I can't look him in the eye. When he notices I refuse to look at him, he begins to shrug out of his clothes with violent motions, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear from his drawer. 
> 
> "So I'm a couple of hours late! Big fucking deal. You don't have to make it sound like I forgot your birthday or something." He mumbles vehemently. "It's not as if you haven't ever been late before. Is the futon clean, or should I just go get the other one? You can just sleep in this one." 
> 
> The question is valid—I've gotten many lectures over my laziness when it comes to cleaning them after I have my dates over. Jyou says there's nothing worse then finding a wet spot in the middle of your futon, and even I have to agree. Still, it makes me angry. 
> 
> We haven't slept in separate futons for two years now. 
> 
> My infamous Ishida temper comes bubbling up to the surface. "Well, you don't even give a fuck if I'm late, so it doesn't matter now does it?!" 
> 
> He stops in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt. "Why do you mean I don't care? When was the last time you found me asleep when you came home, even if it was four o'clock in the damn morning? Just because I don't get on your back about it doesn't mean I don't care!!" 
> 
> It's true, I realize. He's always awake, watching television, writing, studying, something…but he's always awake. 
> 
> "It's not like I'm out every night, looking for women!" He continues angrily. "I don't even go ON dates, so in the very least you shouldn't begrudge me time with my friends!" 
> 
> I thought I was one of your friends. 
> 
> He must have noticed the look on my face because it stops him in midsentence. "I didn't mean it like _that_." He whispers lowly. 
> 
> "Does it really bother you that I go out on so many dates?" I want to know. Just tell me something for once. He looks surprised at the question briefly, stopping to push his bangs out of his eyes. His hair is getting long again. 
> 
> "I don't like cleaning up after them." 
> 
> "Don't dodge the question, dammit!" 
> 
> I instantly regret my words when I see the pain surface in his dark eyes. 
> 
> "Okay. Fine. Yes, I hate it. I get insanely jealous when I come home and see the futon on the floor in broad daylight. I'm hurt when we can't even carry on a conversation before one of your "many" comes up and you go into that flirty mode. It makes me want to scream when all I want is for the two of us to be able to spend a quiet weekend going to the movies or something, but your calendar is booked for five months straight." 
> 
> For the all the previously buried venom in his words, I notice he's still only pulled out one futon. 
> 
> "I hate the fact that I'm not living in some damn shoujo manga where everyone is gay and open about it. I hate society for its 'as long as it isn't in public, do whatever you want; as long as you give your parents grandkids, who cares' mentality. I loathe the fact that I'm supposed to 'grow out of this' and find a wife someday…" 
> 
> "Jyou…" I'm sorry Jyou. I'm so sorry. I wish I could explain to you that I don't _care_ about them. I just have to play it that way…because I'm a coward, and for once in my life I want things to go smoothly… 
> 
> Why can't I just say it? 
> 
> _Aishiteru_. Four syllables. 
> 
> Because he's right. Someday, we _will_ have to "grow out of it". Maybe we never really will, but no matter what, we'll have to pretend. 
> 
> _Deru kugi wa utareru._
> 
> All we have right now is a few years and a "cozy" apartment. 
> 
> So when I kiss him, I try to say everything I can't put into words. I end up being glad that he's already spread out the futon as he lowers me to the floor, emotions I can't begin to comprehend surfacing from deep in those black onyx eyes of his. 
> 
> "I guess I'll have to take what I can get…" is the last thing I hear him say, the tinge of bitter amusement running up my spine in a shiver. 
> 
> *** 
> 
> The air conditioner stops with a moan that makes it sound as if it's in its death throes. 
> 
> "Nnnnm. The air conditioner stopped." A voice slurred with sleep whispers in my ear. 
> 
> "It's a piece of shit." I whisper back. 
> 
> "If you hit it, it'll turn back on again." 
> 
> "I don't want to get up." 
> 
> "C'mon. We'll get too hot if we're gonna go back to sleep like this." 
> 
> "Take off the top cover of the futon. I'm too comfortable, and I'm not moving." 
> 
> Sleepy laughter. 
> 
> "You're spoiled." 
> 
> "I know. Who do you think spoils me?"   

> 
> I clutch what precious moments I can tightly to me. 
> 
> Maybe tomorrow, I'll be able to tell him.   

> 
>   
  

> 
> owari 
> 
>   

> 
> Notes: "_Aishiteru_" means, "I love you" and has a deeper, more serious meaning than "_suki_" or even "_daisuki_". "_Deru kugi wa utareru._" is a famous Japanese proverb; it means, "The nail that sticks up is hammered down."


End file.
